Release
by EFAW
Summary: There was no point in living anymore. He had served his purpose, and there was nothing left. Not even the love he so desperately wished in return. And, as the blade moved closer to his wrist, he thought of how truly worthless his life was. Oneshot.


This is a ficcy of DNAngel, which, in spite of how much I love the series, I do not own. TT Such a shame, ain't it?

Oh well. Warning for blood, and that's about it. There's some reference to shounen-ai, but nothing explicit.

On with the story!

**OOOO**

**Release**

The knife sat on the hardwood floor, glinting innocently in the moonlight coming through the open window. The light cast a blue shadow over the blade, making the edge seem softer, as though it was trying to prove how impossible it was for it to take someone's life. Unfortunately, this didn't prove anything, as a few pearly drops of blood, black in the moonlight, rested on the handle and blade, spotting the floor.

Hiwatari Satoshi sat on his knees, his hand at his mouth. His tongue darted out, lapping at the blood oozing from his open wounds, but his eyes never once strayed from the knife. There was something compelling, something…addicting…about the edge, something that drew his hand closer to it, at the same time pulling his hand back. It was dangerous, and used in the wrong hands, deadly.

His hands were the wrong ones, he knew that for certain.

The events of the day before had tired him, and he had little energy to do anything but think. After hours and hours of this menial task, he came to one conclusion.

He was useless.

Now that Dark and Krad had been sealed away, and the Niwa family would stop stealing the artwork of his family, he wasn't needed anymore. He had only been elevated to the position of Commander because his father had excellent connections. He was dead. So there was no reason to continue at the police department.

He had only held Krad because the blond angel needed a vessel. Every word the angel had ever uttered was true. He was nothing more than a shell, a carrier for something so much more important. Krad was gone. He wasn't needed for that anymore.

He had no desire to continue on his family linage. For one thing, his was a cursed family, the first male of each generation becoming a host for Krad. He would never submit his child to that kind of pain. Besides, he had no interest in the female half of the world, nor the male half. Only one person caught his interest, and that person was out of his reach, held in the clutches of an untrusting female, tied down by the burden of his family, and…forced away _because_ of the name of his family. There was no reason to live for that.

Was there really any reason at all?

He could think of none.

Which just proved his point.

He was useless.

His hand, pale as a ghost, reached out and gripped the blade, ignoring the handle. The edge sliced into his palm, but he didn't care. He didn't care about anything anymore. Everything was numb. And, like the calm before the storm, his oceanic eyes were blank, swirling emotion hidden beneath the clear waters. The eyes were supposed to be the windows to the soul, but his were as opaque as plaster. Nothing was revealed, no thought about what he was going to do.

And he brought the blade to his wrist, his own blood dripping around the knife onto his white skin. So this was how it ended. This was the way the endless saga of Krad and Dark, Hikari and Niwa stopped. With a kitchen knife and a broken vessel. It was kind of funny, in a way.

The edge bit into the tender skin, blood from his palm mixing with blood from his wrist, mingling until there was no distinction. Had there ever been? In this light, his blood was black; was there ever a way to truly tell what blood had come from where? For that matter, would everyone's blood become the same when mixed?

He couldn't believe that.

His was dirty blood. Others weren't. Niwa-kun's wasn't. Niwa-kun's blood was cleaner than a clear spring. His was dirty and…bad. His blood would look different from Niwa-kun's. He didn't have to guess at that. He was sure of it.

But the thought of Niwa-kun made the blade paused, hovering uncertainly. Niwa-kun would be sad if he died…wouldn't he? After all, Niwa-kun was his friend…wasn't he? There was something pure about the redhead that made it impossible to believe that he was lying when he said he was.

Something pure…and innocent.

He couldn't taint that innocence. Not with his dirty blood and dark past. He had tried to fight his demons, but nothing had worked. Even though the physical manifestation was gone, the mental scars left behind stood out, dark and…restraining. Just as Niwa-kun was bound by his family, he was bound by himself.

Bound by himself to himself.

And he couldn't live like that.

He couldn't imagine those bright red orbs saddened, which he was certain they would be if he died. Would he really want to cause such pain to his most important person? The person he loved unselfishly, yet selfishly wished for in return? Could he really hurt him like that?

He had to.

Niwa-kun would recover, eventually, with the help of his family and Harada Riku-san. He would move on with his life, and he would recover, shoving his memories of Hiwatari Satoshi to the back of his mind, where they would fade with time. Like dusty photographs left in a box, that would slowly lose color, then graphics, and ultimately just slip into…

Nothingness.

That's what he would become. That's what his life was. That's all his entire existence was about. All of his accomplishments, his gains, his losses, it all added up to one thing, one thing that ruled over him.

Nothing.

He would become what he had always been. And he couldn't imagine dragging Niwa-kun down with him. Niwa-kun had something to live for, something to work towards, something he could use to stay afloat. Niwa-kun had a home, a loving family, wonderful friends, a pretty girlfriend, an adorable pet.

He didn't.

All he had was an unrequited love and his own thoughts. A home? Yeah, right. Home is where the heart was, and Niwa-kun had his heart. And he couldn't make a home with Niwa-kun.

He wouldn't live for that.

A family, friends? He had none. Only one, who didn't need him as much as he needed the other. He would be missed for a while, but Niwa-kun would get over him. There was no one other than Niwa-kun, and Niwa-kun would be infinitely better without him.

He couldn't live for that.

Was there anything else he could live for?

His job.

But he hated it. His co-workers and subordinates hated him.

He had lived with hate ever since Krad had woken up.

He couldn't live like that.

School?

He didn't need it. He only went for Niwa-kun and, as mentioned above, Niwa-kun didn't need him.

He would be loathe to live for that.

There was nothing.

He was useless.

The blade sunk into the vein, all hesitation lost. Ocean eyes watched in horrified fascination as the blood came, more blood than he had expected. The pain was nearly unbearable…but he had lived with worse. And after a little bit, the pain would disappear. And he would be free.

With a trembling hand, his bloody hand rose, touching the wall. One finger gently traced out the words he needed to say, the reason he needed to give for doing this. It took a long time, and the letters came out sloppy, but, he noted with satisfaction, they were distinct. Against the white walls of his hospital-room apartment, the crimson was splashed, an art piece that only one would see.

Only one had to see.

He sat back, a smile of smug achievement on his face. His glasses fell off his nose and shattered on the ground, but he didn't notice. He didn't care. The numbness was back, everything was just swept away. His vision was going, and he found himself staring up at the ceiling, his body no longer supporting him.

He closed his eyes. This was it, then. This was the end. Everything would be gone soon…so soon.

Then, Hiwatari Satoshi's world went black.

And death came to claim him.

**XXXX**

There were few at the service, and fewer still at the burial. The service was an awkward one, as only Daisuke knew Hiwatari-kun well enough to have been comfortable. He had forced his parents to take him, threatening to never speak with them again if they didn't, and they had obliged, if reluctantly. Besides him, there was Captain Saehara, two older cops who had actually preferred Satoshi as Commander, and a few kids from their class. No one was crying, because no one knew Hiwatari-kun well enough to cry.

It was really kind of horrible, Daisuke thought, watching as the polished black oak was slowly covered, shovel full by shovel full of dirt. He never could understand why someone would want to commit suicide, and this one confused him even more. Why would Hiwatari-kun feel the need to kill himself?

And why, he scolded himself, hadn't he noticed? He had felt terrible when he had found Hiwatari-kun's body, taking his homework to him since the teen had missed school. He had known immediately that the apartment was too still, too quiet…too dead. And then he had walked into the bedroom, and seen the blood, and he had known. He had just known.

He hadn't been able to stop screaming until a paramedic had pulled him out of the room.

There was something horrible about dying by one's own hand.

It spoke of a hopelessness that one could never be pulled out of, a desperation to just get away. Daisuke sighed sadly, gently placing the lily on the grave in front of him. The few others placed there were white, but he knew how much his friend had hated the color. He had gone to a florist and gotten one of the artificially painted ones. It hadn't mattered what color, so long as it wasn't white.

He had gotten a pale blue one.

Everyone else was gone, even his parents. They had left earlier, saying he couldn't get home himself. Even the gravedigger had left after his job was complete. Now, Daisuke was the only one left. The tombstone was a rectangular plaque with slightly rounded corners, a shady grey, the same as all of the others in the cemetery. He knelt in the muddy ground, his hand tracing over the words carved in stone, the same words that had been written in blood against the white wall. He had seen the words so many times since their discovery four days ago that he was sure the image was burned on the back of his eyelids. Every time he closed his eyes, he could picture the bloody scene. He could see the individual letters written there.

_Forgive me, for I loved what was forbidden._

It hadn't made sense, and then, with one phone call, it had.

Everything had been left to him. Everything Hiwatari Satoshi had owned, and everything he had gained from his father, he had given to Niwa Daisuke. His mother had nearly fainted when the lawyer came to talk with him, and his father had been stunned speechless. And he…

He had been silent.

Now, he understood what the cryptic message had meant.

He could understand the true message behind the words, the message no one else had heard.

_Forgive me, for I loved my family's enemy._

_I loved Niwa Daisuke._

With a quick shake of his head, Daisuke brushed away the image of the letters. He brushed the tips of his fingers over the carvings, the words that were supposed to represent his best friend. A raindrop hit the back of his hand, followed by another, and all around him, the ground became even muddier as the skies opened up and poured out the rain.

And, for the first time, he let his tears fall from his eyes.

After all, no one could tell when it was raining.

A feather light touch on his back made his head raise, and he peered through blurry eyes at the figure kneeling beside him. His eyes widened in shock, and his mouth opened soundlessly, the words he wanted to say caught in his throat. A pale hand reached out and brushed his cheek, brushed away his tears, though he knew it was impossible.

_I'll wait for you, _the ghostlike image of Hiwatari Satoshi mouthed, head tilted curiously to one side. The rain passed through him, and there were faint lines of the graves behind him, but otherwise, he looked just like he had in life.

Daisuke managed to close his mouth and nod, eyes still wide.

A smile crossed translucent lips, a true smile that only one person had ever seen. The spirit leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Daisuke's neck. To the shocked redhead, it felt as real as if the teen had been sitting beside him.

_Thank you,_ he mouthed, the words somehow making themselves known to Daisuke, though the words were unspoken. Then, the ghost pulled back, and white, see-through wings sprouting from his shoulder blades. He held eye contact with Daisuke until he faded away.

Then, the shade was gone.

Daisuke shook his head again, blinking hurriedly. He couldn't have seen what he thought. There was no possible way he had just seen that.

Right?

But…it had felt so real. He could almost smell the lingering scent in the air, the slightly minty vanilla scent that he had come to associate with Hiwatari-kun. Maybe it was all in his imagination, a sort of mental denial his mind conjured up.

Then again, it had also been said to be impossible for man to fly on his own wings, and yet, he had soared through the starlit sky on wings made of night. Maybe what he thought had happened wasn't as impossible as he had thought. There was no reason why it wasn't possible.

A soft smile crossed his lips, and he stood, scraping mud off the knees of his pants. His tears had stopped, though the rain kept falling. Tenderly, he patted the top of the tombstone, whispering his first words in four days.

"Wait for me, Hiwatari-kun."

Then he turned and left the grave, one pale blue lily standing out among the white. The redhead left the cemetery, walking down the sidewalk, his black clothes standing out among the other people on the streets. It would hurt for a while, every time he thought about the fact that Satoshi wasn't going to be there ever again, but he would get over it. He would never forget, but he would be able to push the pain away, until the day they once more met again. And he would wait for that day.

**XXXX**

And silently, caught on the wind and falling from the sky, two feathers floated down through the rain and settled on the ground, one on each side of the ice blue lily.

One was black.

The other was white.

It was their tribute to Hiwatari Satoshi's death.

**OOOO**

Okay, I know I'm a horrible person for making Satoshi die, and I know that it was a very bad bad bad thing to do, since I absolutely love the angst-ridden bishounen, but I think the story turned out good any way, even though it's short. Right? I'm a horribly critical person of my own works, but even despite the whole funeral theme(which I hadn't planned, by the way, it just came out like that) I liked it. Don't you? Please, tell me what you thought. Even if you hated it and wish it would die, tell me! I like reviews! I like flaming reviews! I LIKE ANYTHING!

Arigatou!


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